Candlelight Tales
by lily moonlight
Summary: A collection of short stories, scenes and oneshots; some AU, some present-day. Drama, romance, adventure and humour, focusing on Mac and Stella, with the other characters present, too.
1. Pieces of Silver

**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI:NY**

**Notes: This is a little collection of scenes and oneshots, written for fun and mostly with prompts from my friend _Blue Shadowdancer_ while she was visiting me. They were written while sitting by the hearth, which was illuminated by candlelight, hence the title :) Thanks to _LostinNewYork_ for sending me comments on this scene. I'll update both 'Midsummer' and 'Old West' very soon, I've had a few wrangles with the chapters. But, enough talking, I hope you enjoy these!**

**This first scene is an AU story, set on the high seas :D**

Pieces of Silver

"Never," Mac snarled, shaking his soaked hair out of his eyes as the pirate opposite him sneered.

"Too bad you ain't got a choice about it, Captain Taylor..." He directed an evil smirk at Stella and Mac's rage increased. "I'm sure your pretty wife will agree."

"Take it easy, Mac," Stella murmured, her hand on his arm. "He's only trying to goad you."

"Better listen to her, _Captain_." The pirate smirked as he took another strutting step closer to Mac, who remained with his feet planted stolidly on the deck.

Below him, his crew watched in silence, defiance in all of them. He took comfort from that, knowing they would fight on even if he was wounded, or worse. As he glanced over his men and women, he caught his first mate's eye. Don dipped his head, his signal of reassurance almost imperceptible, but welcome nonetheless.

While the pirate watched him, rain dripping from the tiny black braids in his beard, Mac tightened his grip on his sword. The whole ship seemed still, hushed. He could no longer hear even the creak of the sails or the soft patter of rain that fell on the timbers.

"Well?" Blackbeard demanded and took another step closer. Mac felt his face tighten in scorn and even though the rain had soaked through every layer of clothing, turning his red shirt to a blood-coloured burgundy, he refused to shiver. Or to surrender.

"You'll never take this ship and you'll never take any of my crew." His voice rang out, plangent at the insult that had been done to his crew and to his ship. How dared this upstart, this lawless excuse for a seaman board his ship and threaten his crew; threaten Stella. Equally as uncaring of the rain, she stood beside him, her hair loose over her shoulders, keeping her hand on his arm. His stanchion in the midst of this chaos.

"We're getting out of this, all of us, alive." Her lips touched his ear as she whispered the words to him and he exhaled, hearing the dying away laughter from their enemy.

Now only a sword's length away, he eyed them with interest, leering at Stella, who hissed in anger as he pointed his cutlass at her.

"Maybe you'd like to see her killed first, Captain," he sneered and Mac felt the handle of his weapon cut into his fingers. When the tip of Blackbeard's cutlass inched closer to Stella, Mac reacted, his sword slicing through the rain. The blood from Blackbeard's severed ear splashed onto the deck, the scream of pain and rage from the pirate ringing out as he leaped forward. As he did, the leather pouch containing the 10 pieces of silver he had offered in jest for the ship 'Manhattan' tore from his belt, spilling over the timbers.

In an instant, Mac was upon him, lashing out with his sword at his enemy, who ducked and rolled, tripping Mac in the process. As he stumbled, crashing to his knees, he was aware of Stella flinging herself with a shriek of defiance at Blackbeard. Down below, the spell of stillness broken, his crew came to life and launched their attack on the rest of Blackbeard's crew surrounding them.

In moments, the ship was a boiling mass of figures leaping, shouting, screeches of rage and battle ricocheting from the masts of the vessel. Punches were exchanged, blows parried and thrust, foes brought down.

On the forecastle though, it was him and Stella alone. Despite the loss of his ear and subsequent bleeding, Blackbeard fought brutally with his cutlass and a knife. The blade of one of them, he was unsure which, whistled through the air and sliced through Mac's shirt. He barely blinked. Only one thought stayed in his mind, clear amongst the cacophony of fury, that he must protect his ship and Stella. When he saw the tear in the sleeve of her shirt, saw blood oozing through it as she winced in pain and clutched at it, his rage swallowed up all reason. A roar broke from him and he leaped for Blackbeard's throat, both of them crashing to the deck.

Underneath him, the pirate bucked and thrashed as Mac groped for his neck, knocking him sideways so his head slammed into the bulwark and a blinding darkness dropped over him.

The cries of battle died away, becoming a spindrift of stillness; mist swirled round him and in his head, a voice called, falling and rising like the ebbing tide. He lay somewhere; somewhere soft, comfortable, swaying in a soothing motion.

The voice became insistent, calling his name, over and over while something seemed to be tugging at his hand. With a groan, Mac tried to pull away, tried to tell whoever it was to leave him be, let him sleep, but they took no notice and he was forced to open his eyes...

And close them almost immediately when his heavy eyelids refused to cooperate. But that same voice, one he now recognised, spoke again and for her, he opened his eyes and kept them open.

Her hand holding his, smiling at him with sparkling eyes, Stella sat beside him.

"I knew you'd come back to me," she whispered, leaning forward and hugging him before drawing back and brushing with tender fingers the bandage he realised was round his head. Before either of them could say any more, the door to the cabin opened and Don stepped in with a tray of food, his face breaking into a smile as he looked at Mac.

"Welcome back to the world of the awake," he said, setting the tray down on the folding table by the wall. "Have a good sleep?"

At his familiar insouciance, Mac felt his mouth curving into a smile, but it didn't last as his gaze returned to Stella and he noticed the bandage on her arm and how stiffly she sat, with one arm wrapped round her ribcage. He saw then that he was bare-chested with a bandage wrapped round his middle and a dull ache in his torso. Don's forehead looked grazed and through the open neck of his shirt, Mac could see a dark bruise on the side of his neck.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice cracking a little at the edges.

Stella gripped his hand while Don watched them. "We won," she said simply. "Blackbeard is dead; his crew are defeated and have fled like the cowards they are. We're safe, all of us."

"Thanks mostly to you two risking your lives," Don broke in, resting a hand on the bedpost as he looked severe. "You were lucky to survive..." Catching the glare Stella threw at him, he stopped and sighed. "Anyhow, you're alive, we're all alive to sail another day. I guess that's what counts." Gesturing at the tray, he added, "Get something to eat and I'll come see you later, along with the Doc." His last sentence was spoken almost as a threat and Stella pulled a face at him which he shook his head at, mouth pursed, before he made his way to the door.

Mac's gaze, along with Stella's followed Don as he departed and then they turned to each other.

"I missed you," Stella said as she leaned forward to kiss him and he savoured the taste of her lips on his. "Don't ever scare me like that again..."

"I'll try," he murmured and returned her kiss, the ache in his head receding as he held her in his arms. Each other's presence being the only thing mattering to both of them.

**Thanks for reading! I'd love to know what you think, Lily x**


	2. Red Roses

**Disclaimer: Probably to their relief, the characters are not mine**

**Notes: Another little story in this series, this one slightly more perilous than the last :D Many thanks for all the reviews for the last scene! **

**Thanks to _Ballettmaus_ for reading and providing detailed comments, and also to _Lost in New York_ and _Little Miss Lou_ who read an early draft and gave me some pointers. This was also inspired by some prompts from _Blue Shadowdancer_. Enjoy!  
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Red Roses

It had begun with coffee. Coffee, _al__fresco_, on a perfect April day. A day of primrose sunlight, a gentle warmth, a breeze which had stroked their skin... Now dust coated her skin and the sunlight was a faded memory.

Stella groaned and let her head tip back against the heap of rubble behind them, her skull hitting the stone with a soft 'thunk'. She shivered. There was nothing but cold and the waning glow from Mac's cell phone. The atmosphere was still as death.

Wrapping her arms round her, she tried to breathe as slow and shallow as possible. The air tasted acrid and dry in her mouth, desiccating her throat and lungs. When she moved her gaze sideways, she caught Mac's eye through the gloom and knew he was as afraid as she was.

How long they had been there, she had no idea. Surely though someone would have missed them by now and realised that they, too, had been caught up in the apparent explosion? They could only hope so.

After all, they had only left the lab to get coffee; something which had been Mac's suggestion. Pleasantly surprised that he had been the one to ask, Stella had been more than happy to agree.

They had held hands as they walked to the cafe, something they had been doing more often recently. Still, every time they did, it caused the warmth from their joined fingers to spread through her, all the way to her smile.

Now her fingers were numb, stiff with cold, lacerated by their attempts to try and scrabble a way out of their subterranean prison. But in the darkness, they had reached for each other by instinct, their fingers entwining. When the cold crept deeper into her, she tightened her grip on Mac, moving closer to him, grateful for his reassuring warmth beside her as she remembered earlier.

Probably only a few hours earlier, when they had finished their coffee, Mac had insisted on paying. She had let him, conceding with a teasing smile and the reminder that it would be her turn next time. That 'next time' had brought a rare, wide smile to his face. A smile that had lit his eyes as their hands joined again as they strolled along the sidewalk together.

They had passed a florist, the buckets of roses outside snagging her attention. Mac had noticed. He had seen her gaze tugged towards the blood red blooms and with a different smile flowering on his face, he had led her into the store, catching up a bunch of the reddest blossoms and paying for them. With an almost shy look on his face, he had presented them to her. With no shyness at all, she had kissed him, her lips on his; a trace of rose pink in both their cheeks when they had pulled back...

Where those roses were now, God only knew. Somewhere underneath the rubble that had entombed them both. Crushed, probably, into an obliteration of petals, smashed stems and broken thorns. Somewhere down here, in the gloom. In the first dazedness of waking, she had felt around for them in the confined space, but had laid her hand on only grit and stone. A sensation so different from that she had experienced earlier.

After they had left the shop, she had clutched her flowers, regardless of their thorns, delighting in the richness of their hue, and even more, in the impulse behind the gift. Her wondering gaze had fallen on Mac every few moments. That smile of his, satisfied and a little shy, had played round the corners of his mouth. His eyes when they turned to meet hers had held secrets she wanted to explore further.

Now, she craved only to see his face in the daylight again; to know they would both feel sun and rain on their skin again...

Hours before, having seen the blue skies above them fade to grey, and then dim to a smoke colour, they had hurried to get back to the lab. Not fast enough. When the clouds were sliced open by lightning, bleeding rainwater with a howl of thunderous pain, they had run. With her roses battered by the torrents of water, Stella had hauled Mac into a subway entrance. She had taken a step back, to let someone pass and in that instant, their haven had exploded; everything had fallen down, blackness had collapsed on them.

In the near total darkness they were still trapped in, she had come to, lying on her back, serrated pieces of concrete digging into her, with Mac chafing her hand, uttering her name urgently. He had helped her sit up as much as they could in the limited space, watching her anxiously as she coughed dust out of her lungs. His forehead and the front of his hair were clotted with blood; that she had seen as soon as her eyes had adjusted.

Neither had she escaped injury; there was a dull, wearying ache in her stomach where a sliver of stone had stabbed her and coagulating blood on her scalp. In quick, matter of fact tones, Mac had explained the situation. It seemed that something had detonated in the subway and they had been caught in the explosion. And they were trapped. As far as he could tell, there was no way out.

So it had been proved. They had called, tried to move what they could, to no avail. No answering cries, no escape. When they had brought a rock fall down on them, the swirls of powdered concrete almost smothering them, they had stopped and accepted the truth. They were trapped. There was no way out.

_No way out... _

_Trapped..._

Her head sagged onto Mac's shoulder, her mind roiling, woozy. Maybe lack of oxygen or blood loss, maybe the blow to her head. Whichever it was, she was beginning not to care, and in her stomach the gnawing pain was becoming steadily worse. Sensing it, perhaps, Mac drew her closer, his lips brushing the top of her head as she heard him murmur that it would be okay; that they'd find a way out. To his last shreds of hope, she clung, too. And moments later, accompanied by cascades of grit onto their heads, they heard voices above them.

But it was the last thing she heard, as when Mac pulled her out of the way of the tumbling stones, the movement caused a knifing agony in her abdomen. All she could do was utter a cry before sight, sound and sensation swirled into an indecipherable muddle, followed by oblivion.

How much time passed, she had no idea. She was aware of nothing but muffled sounds, intermittent voices, Mac's somewhere amongst them, then silence, further darkness. Until she felt light beyond her eyelids, felt a caress of sunlight on her skin, heard a voice clearly.

After one failed attempt, her eyes opened and looked into Mac's, and of its own accord, a smile appeared on her lips.

He took her hand, raising it, his lips touching the back of it tenderly while her fingers curled round his. Where she remembered a gash on his forehead, there was now a cleaned and dressed wound. On his cheeks and chin, his skin was drawn and his eyes held clouds, but the longer his gaze held hers, the faster they fleeted away and she could see the sun behind them.

And in a vase at the side of her bed were a dozen red roses, fresh with velvet petals and she smiled anew; knowing what they had begun, they would continue.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading, reviews are very much appreciated - let me know what you think! Lily x<strong>


	3. A Dark and Stormy Night

**Disclaimer: The characters are not mine; I just toy with them now and again**

**Notes: With thanks to _Crowded Angels_ for the original prompt and to _Ballettmaus_ for her help and suggestions. **

**Dedicated to _Little Miss Lou_ - have a very happy birthday!**

A Dark and Stormy Night

Stella's eyes flew open. Her hand reached out, groping across the cooled bed sheets, and found nothing, no one beside her.

Sighing, she sat upright, shivering as the air blew draughts across her skin where her pyjama top had ridden up.

With one ear open to the bass notes of the storm reverberating outside, she threw the duvet back and swung her legs out of the bed, giving a shudder as her bare feet touched the wooden floor. A moment of fumbling located the light switch and she blinked before her eyes adjusted and she could see that one slipper was beside the bedside cabinet, the other was over by the window. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes and shuffled over to slip them on her feet, grumbling as she caught sight of the little digital clock flashing the time; but the realisation that she didn't have to get up for work, or anything else, mollified her. She located her dressing gown tossed over the chair and still bleary-eyed from sleep, she wrapped the gown round her and set off to find her missing husband.

It wasn't difficult to find Mac; after all, the log cabin they had rented for a few days' vacation had only four rooms. As she'd surmised, he was in the dimly-lit living room, but what did surprise her was to find him kneeling in front of the fire, feeding it with chunks of wood. Stopping in the doorway, Stella watched him coaxing a wavering flame into something more substantial before she sashayed into the room.

"What are you doing? Apart from the obvious," she added with a grin.

Mac turned round to her. "I was wondering how long you were going to stand there," he said before turning his attention to the fire and blowing the flame which had begun to nibble promisingly at the wood. Chuckling, Stella made her way over to him, hugging her arms round her before an exclamation jerked from her as she looked at him more closely.

"Your hair! Mac, it's soaked!"

"That's what happens when you go out in the rain without a hat on," he said wryly, rubbing his head and regarding his wet palm with a frown.

Stella screwed her face up in bewilderment. "Why were you going outside in this kind of weather, at this time of the morning?"

"Because the fire needed more wood," he replied as if that was all the explanation needed.

Still baffled, Stella shook her head. "Couldn't it have waited? I thought we were letting the fire die down. It's 4am, Mac."

"3.55am; to be exact," he said with a small smile and busied himself poking at the fire which caused the flame to leap and spread itself across the wood. Stella stepped forward and held her hands out to the fire as a shiver caught her unawares.

"Couldn't you sleep?" she asked him.

His eyes stayed on the flames, staring intently at them as he placed a few pieces of coal with care amongst the wood which the fire leaped on with gusto. "I was sleeping pretty well," he answered.

Stella moved her head a little to the side in a gesture of curiosity, her sleepiness almost forgotten. "Then why are you up and about seeing to the fire?"

"Because it's cold and wet outside," he replied, continuing to stoke the flames.

"'_It was a dark and stormy night_...'" Stella intoned with gothic emphasis before she grinned and Mac smiled up at her as he moved round on his knees to face her. "But that still doesn't explain why you went out into it."

Mac gave a slight shrug. "I didn't want you getting cold overnight; you were mumbling something in your sleep about blankets, so..."

"So you get cold and wet yourself instead. Yeah, that makes sense." Hands on her hips, she gave him an appraising look. "Anyhow," she continued, suspicious of his real motive, "Lighting the fire here isn't going to make much difference to the temperature in the bedroom, at least not for a while."

He had turned his back to poke at the fire again as he replied, "I figured it was better to have it lit than not."

Slowly, she knelt down beside him and touched his arm to halt what he was doing. "What's on your mind?" she asked softly.

Setting the poker down slowly, he faced her, a tint of self-consciousness in his expression as he hesitated a moment before answering her. "Same thing that's been there since we found out about the baby," he said. "How I'm going to be as a father; how I'll measure up when it comes to looking after a family..."

Sighing, wishing she could remove his concerns and fears, even as she knew she had almost exactly the same, Stella stroked his hair. "You've nothing to measure up to, Mac. You'll be perfect as a father, and don't forget, it's going to be two of us looking after _our_ baby." She gave him a look full of meaning; conveying to him that they were a couple, a partnership, ready to take whatever lay ahead for them together. It was a reminder, which he accepted with a small lift of the corners of his mouth. "And don't forget," Stella added as she narrowed her eyes at him in mock-seriousness, "You getting sick after being out in the cold and wet isn't going to be much help to me."

Seeing him look suitably chastened, even though he muttered something about how they still had several months before the baby was born, Stella shook her head. "What am I going to do with you, Mac?"

He grinned suddenly, running his fingers through his hair, the light from the fire glinting in his eyes. "How do you want me to answer that?"

Stella smirked as several possibilities flared in her mind, but she wasn't letting him off so lightly. "Before we do anything else, I'm going to dry you." She jabbed a finger at him. "Stay there while I get a towel."

"I won't move a muscle," Mac promised solemnly and she threw him a grin over her shoulder as she made her way to the log cabin's tiny kitchen. There she caught up a fresh, dry towel and with it draped over her arm, she returned to the living room, yawning expansively on the way. Ever since finding out she was pregnant a few weeks ago, the increased tiredness had been the most noticeable change and she was impatient with it, though becoming resigned to it along with the other, more subtle changes; lower blood pressure which had led to her feeling the cold more than usual and a heightened sense of smell.

Obviously wanting to make sure she stayed warm, in the short interval she'd been absent, she saw with a smile that became tender that Mac had brought their bedding through and arranged it in front of the fire. He had bolstered the blaze with more wood and coal and it now burned magnificently; leaping and rippling flames of gold and amber which entranced her for a moment; its radiance warming her through.

She crouched down next to it and directed Mac to come and sit in front of her. He arranged himself with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms hanging loosely down between them. Kneeling up so she could reach the top of his head, Stella got to work rubbing the worst of the wet off his neck and hair. When she had finished, she ran her fingers through his hair and he sighed in deep content. Smiling softly, Stella smoothed the strands down and began to massage his scalp with her fingertips and Mac groaned as his head tipped backwards.

"You do that for much longer and I'll be asleep," he mumbled and she laughed, kissed the top of his head and moved so she was sitting more comfortably, pressed into his side.

"A little more sleep won't do either of us any harm," she said and he smiled, sliding his arm around her.

They sat, Stella leaning her head on Mac's shoulder while he stroked her arm, both of them gazing into the castles and caves that the fire made of the wood and coal. The tumult of the rain had lessened to a murmuration, the sound contributing to the drowsy atmosphere in the cabin. Eyes half-closed, Stella realised how pleasantly sleepy the heat of the fire was making her as she watched the swaying, wobbling flames spread patterns over Mac's skin, captivated by them...

She closed her eyes, opened them again, felt them sliding shut again and finally jerked back to alertness as she felt her head tilting forward.

"Why don't you go to sleep?" Mac asked as he rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Only if you do," she mumbled and a laugh rumbled from his chest.

"You got a deal."

Despite her eyelids sinking shut, she forced her eyes open and blinked at him. "Seems kind of a shame to go back to the bedroom after you moved all this... How about we just stay here?" She added after stifling another yawn.

"Sounds like a plan." Mac smiled. "I'll go change back into my pyjamas."

Struggling now to keep her eyes open and her yawns under control, Stella watched as he headed into the bedroom, tugging his shirt off as he went, before the lure of the pillows and the duvet became irresistible. She made herself comfortable in the makeshift bed, warmed to blissful cosiness by the fire, and was barely awake by the time Mac came padding back to join her.

"Warm enough?" he asked in a low voice as he lay down beside her and brushed a curl from her forehead.

"Mmm, perfect." Opening her eyes a fraction, she smiled and caressed his cheek. "Thank you."

"Any time," he murmured, kissing her palm and drawing her into his arms, one hand resting over her stomach, so she floated into sleep, her head tucked under his chin, enfolded in the warmth of his embrace.

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><p><strong>Thank you for reading; reviews very welcome as always :) Lily x<strong>


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